There was a slight chill in the air on my morning walk through the vineyards and orchards towards Vallabrix this morning: the year is turning.

Ripeness is all, and it's not quite the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness yet, but it will be soon. Amy and Matt of La Gramiere will make that call and we'll be there, in the vineyards at Castillon, when they do.

But right now, there seems to be a social and cultural as well as meteorological hiatus. The sky is still cloudless, but the temperature is high 20s rather than mid-30s. The 'season' is effectively over: fewer Parisian cars in the streets; fewer English and American accents in the market; pools are covered and villas locked up. Today, in Uzes, several shops had reverted to Monday closing. Yesterday, six of us Brits had the terrace of the Bar du Marche to ourselves as we sipped a cinquante-et-un at midday.

We had delivered the last of children back to Nimes airport early in the morning, leaving us with that sweet sorrow of parting. All the children and the grandchild have been with us at some point this summer, bringing joy and fun and - with their departure - a sense of melancholy and anti-climax. By contrast, French friends cannot wait for their kids to return to school next week, and the kids themselves seem to have disappeared from the streets, staying at home with their brand new cahiers to prepare for the new term.

So what next?

We have a trip planned to St-Paul-de-Vence (watch this space), and then the vendange (watch this space), and then we concentrate on the work to which we committed ourselves back in May and which (I speak for myself) remains unfinished; indeed, barely started. In September, there will be fewer displacement activities available to us as the village reverts to normal life, so we - like the other residents of St Quentin - may even get some work done.

The potters will start potting again, rather than selling. The builders and plumbers will return to work and the daily grind of a working village will resume. The bars and restaurants will shrink in size and allow themselves an occasional and usually unannounced evening off.

In other words, St Quentin will once again live la vie Francaise. It's going to be great.

Today's listening: James and Beth and the Swaps: their new EP, sent from Leamington par avion by Michelle. Thanks.